Alas, the heat wave continues here in the Pacific Northwest. It was 97 on Tuesday, or doomsday for my sweet peas. They bloomed late because of a cold spell in April and May so made a brief, but lovely appearance this season. If you’ve never smelled sweet peas you’re missing out on a divine scent. After Tuesday’s scorcher they’re bleached and crisp and sad. Good news is I’ve just learned there’s a perennial variety which I’m seeking out. I’m might also try to plant a second crop in the fall, grown from seed. If possible. More good news is that next week we should have moderate temperatures and my tomatoes are ripening.

There’s been some consternation among authors I know about the many worthy books The New York Times list of the best books of the 21st century left out. It’s been especially noted that titles from small presses were largely ignored. Into the breach, Literary Hub to the rescue suggesting 71 more books you need to know about. {Ahem, they added a ‘non-boring list’ in the subtitle.} If you don’t subscribe to their newsletter, I heartily recommend it.

It covers all things writing, a delightful smorgasbord of  literary criticism and history, author interviews and eulogies, thoughtful craft suggestions, and other media exploratons. I just clicked on The Rise of the Feminist Caper: A List. File under Guilty Pleasures. Have I mentioned how blazing hot it’s been here?   It’s also witty, snobby, but, then again it’s broader than that. Oh, and rather gossipy. And it comes out every day.

Here is their list–an intriguing gathering, many I’m unfamiliar with I’m humbled to report.

However, several titles  have been on my to-read agenda, such as the brilliant Robert MscFarlane’s Underland published in 2009. I supply my elderly father with books and, appreciating this nudge, am going to send him the book and pick up my own copy.

Here’s the Lit Hub review: One hates to label  any book by a living writer his “magnus opus” but Macfarlane’s Underland–a deeply ambitious work that somehow exceeds the boundaries it sets for itself–reads as both offertory and eligy both finding wonder in the world even as we mourn its destruction by our own hand. If you’re unfamiliar with its project, as the name would suggest, Underland is an exploration of a world beneath our feet from the legendary catacombs of Paris to the ancient caves of Somerset, from the hyperborean coasts of faraway Norway to the mephtic karst of the Slovenian-Italian borderlands.

Marcfarland has been a generous guide in his wanderings, the glint of his erudition softened as if through a welcoming haze of a fireside yarn down at the pub.  Even as he considers all we have wrought upon the earth, squeezing himself into the darker chambers of human creation–our mass graves our toxic tombs–Macfarland never succombs to pessimism, finding instead in deep contemplation  a path to humility. This is an epochol work as deep and resonant as its subject matter, and would represent for any writer the achievement of a lifetime.  (One of our Best Works of  Nonfiction  for the decade of 2010-2019)

By the way, the nonfiction list mention above is brimming with masterpieces.  Confession: I had to look up mephtic karst. It’s a foul-smelling limestone plateau in the aforementioned borderlands.

Now aren’t writers the most magical creatures?

Might I add that finding wonder is such a necessity in our lives, but especially these days? And  borderlands whispers meeting, myth, murk, and mystery, doesn’t it?

Keep writing and reading, keep dreaming, have heart

And please vote and bring voters to the polls.

PS I’m also procuring Slammerkin by Emma Donohgue. How could I resist?land